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“How are you feeling?” she asks while I take a huge bite of the thick sandwich. It’s loaded with turkey and cheese, plus a thick layer of mayonnaise.
“Did you make this?” I ask rather than answer her question right away.
Her head bobs up and down while a pleased little smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I remembered you like it that way.”
“I mean it when I call you angel.” Taking another bite and swallowing, I tell her, “I’m all right. Bored to death but feeling okay.”
“I have to talk to Dad about getting you things to do down here.”
“That would be great, but don’t push it. I don’t want him getting pissed with you because of me.” And I don’t want him telling her she’s not allowed to come down here anymore. She’sthe only thing keeping me centered now. I can’t go through this without her.
“Maybe I’ll have Mom talk to him about it,” she suggests. “He takes things like that better from her.”
She’s not going to let it go, so it’s pointless to argue. “Good idea.” Munching on a chip, I observe her for a while. “How are you feeling?”
“Great. Really, I feel good.” So why is her voice so sharp? She’s trying too hard. I guess this can’t be easy on her, either.
“I would give anything if I could go back and redo everything,” I murmur as the usual guilt spreads through my chest. “I hope you know that. I would do anything if I could make that happen.”
“I know. But this all started when you were little—-even before you were born. All of that evil… you’re not responsible for it.”
“I know.” I also know she’s only telling me what she has to. I know I’m not going to stop feeling like shit for what I did anytime soon.
What am I thinking? I should be focusing on her. Being with her. I have all the time in the world to lie here and blame myself. “What have you been doing lately?”
“Aspen wants me to go shopping with her for the baby.” She spears a piece of potato and drags it through some sort of sauce, chewing her lip.
“You don’t sound excited about that.”
She lifts a shoulder, staring at the plate. “I mean, it’s shopping. I like shopping. But it’s weird trying to be excited for her when I know you’re down here.”
“Don’t let me hold you back.” That’s the last thing I want. I’ve already hurt her enough.
Her head snaps up before her face falls. “No, I don’t mean it that way at all. I… I guess I don’t know what I mean.”
This is probably a good time to talk about something that’s been on my mind since I saw the doctor. “Did you ever think about maybe talking to somebody? Like a doctor?”
“A doctor? Why? I’m fine.” And she’s defensive, too. Why is she so defensive? “I’m totally healthy.”
“I mean somebody to talk to about what happened. Back at the compound, the shit I don’t remember from the cabin. That had to be a lot for you. Maybe the doctor can help you process it. I want that for you.”
At least she doesn’t avoid looking at me now, giving me a gentle smile that lights up her face. “That’s so sweet of you to worry about me, but honestly, it wasn’t all that bad. I’m working through it. And I know that nothing you did when you were River actually came from you.”
The way she says it is what gets my attention. That sounds like something she’s told herself a lot. Something she memorized. Is that what she needs to believe? “What did he do?” I ask, voicing the biggest and loudest question, the one that keeps me up at night. “River. I’ve been lying here, beating the shit out of myself, imagining the kind of shit that makes my stomach turn. And I’m afraid even that isn’t anywhere close to what you went through.”
“Honestly, he didn’t do that much to me. I mean, sometimes you would act a little differently, but there’s a reason it took me so long to figure out there was something wrong with you. I just figured you were going through mood swings, something like that.” She cuts into her chicken like it’s no big deal. I have to wonder how many times that happened. How many times did she have to make excuses for me?
“Anyway,” she continues with a sigh, “most of the time, it wasn’t so much what he did, but more what he said.”
The hair on the back of my neck lifts as I watch her, waiting for a clue to explain what she’s hinting at. Finally, I’m tired of waiting. I blurt out, “What did he say to you?”
“It’s not important.” She’s trying like hell to sound lighthearted, but I know better. What, does she think we just met? I know her better than she knows herself.
I watch for a few seconds as she moves food around on her plate. It’s an excuse to keep from looking at me. I love her for it, but it irks me a little, too. “I’m not going to break,” I mutter, pushing food around on my plate the way she does. “What does that mean?”
Her shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath, which she releases slowly. “It means what I said.”
“You don’t have to be worried that you’re going to hurt my feelings or anything like that. I can handle it. And I should know what… what I’ve done to you.” Damn, that’s hard. Part of me knows it wasn’t me who hurt her, but I don’t want to hide behind that excuse, either. I’m not some pussy who can’t face his mistakes.
